Metempsychosis
by InkWorthy
Summary: Here is what I remember: At first I know nothing, not even myself. (First-person one-shot. Rated T because it's Hellraiser.)


This is what I remember: At first I know nothing, not even myself. The world is blinding in its darkness and overwhelming in its existence; everything happens all at once.

The first sensation is cold, then an impact, and silence like nothing I've never heard before. _I_ have never heard before; though these concepts are familiar to me everything is new, and I am consumed by it. Time is too much to measure, and so I will never know how long it takes me to realize that I have fallen to my knees on cold stone.

Slowly knowledge comes to me; just as my eyes adjust to the dark outside, my mind adjusts to the dark that it is inside. I know that I am someone, though just who I am is unclear. I know that I am a man - I am unsure how I know, but it feels correct to me. I know I am an individual, contained within a body, and as I reach for the ground and push up I feel material at my legs. There is something at my waist; I reach with one hand and feel leather that sinks past my ankles, and I stand to find it stays touching the ground. I look down and see there is nothing else on me, only this material that is cold and rough against my legs. I reach and touch it again, and find it smooth on the outside.

Rough, smooth. I know textures, sensations; I look down at my hands. _White._ Colors. I look to the garment. _Black._ I try to look down to my chest.

 _Red._

The ache comes quick and sharp as I realize six open wounds mark my chest; I stagger back from the sudden newness of pain and grapple for something, anything. My chest is warm with the sting of them and I can only barely grasp in my panic that I must be tall for how far the ground is now, and the sound of my voice in my frantic breath is deep and unfamiliar and feels too large for my chest. It is so dark, and despite not having a memory of light to yearn for I find myself wishing for it anyway.

My hand reaches back and finds cold metal. I turn around and look up - and somehow, despite the dark, I can see it.

It is a tall box, a chamber with open doors, dripping red and blue from glinted points that I can only just see in the dark. _That is mine,_ I think, reaching forward and feeling cold metal of a blade protruding from the inner wall. _That is where I came from._

I am new; something about that puts me at peace, another idea I know without having to ask. It seems I have been made completely and all at once; for though I know nothing of this moment around me, I know of myself, and peace, and pain. _Pain._ The word is enticing in my mind, and I think of it again. Pain. Sensation. Experience.

 _That is what I am here for,_ I think to myself, and all at once I can see the ground.

There is still no light but I can see it all the same. The same metal patterns that mark my creation line the floor in a single line before me. I know there is more ground around it, but it is still all darkness; the only path clear is the one marked by the patterns, black-gold and the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. I have seen very little, but I know I will always think of these patterns this way. I follow the path, leaving the box behind me and listening to the sounds of my footsteps against the cold surface.

Walking becomes easier with each step; the air is cold, and I wish for something to cover myself above the waist, but I do not voice this wish. I cannot explain why or how, but I know that there is nothing more important than where I am going and who I am going to see.

I finally hear something that isn't me. It is a great groaning, like gears, far over my head and all-encompassing. I can hear a pattern in the sounds but cannot understand it; yet I find myself filled with awe as I keep walking, the sound growing stronger with each step. I am walking towards it; and when I see the great white shape over my head I know that I cannot stop until I reach the shape's shadow. And so I walk.

And walk.

And walk.

The shape's shadow swallows me after I have walked for so long that I am desperate to fall back on my knees. Black columns spiral down from its peak but those are not my destination; as I approach the center of the shadow I fall at last, embracing the sharp blow of the stone against my knees. My head bows, and something jabs my neck. I reach up to pull it from my chin. I find a long, thin piece of metal, and squeeze it only for a moment before letting go. I am suddenly aware that they are more; I can see them in the blurred edges of my vision, gray points that are mine to bear. I close my eyes and sit in the darkness. I feel the cold press into my skin and the floor press into my legs.

 _My son._ The words fill my mind and I grow tense; the voice is not a sound but a force, I hear nothing and yet I feel the words in my thoughts. They are in no language and I somehow understand them better than myself. _Welcome,_ I feel, _I have awaited you here._ I am suddenly overwhelmed; my soul grows full, not with joy or despair, but with something I do not know how to describe other than awe. _Lift your head._ I do.

My eyes are open for only a moment, but the moment is too much.

The figure before me is impossible; I see a black shape vaguely formed as I am, but ever-changing and I cannot focus. In the one moment the figure is thin, firm, wide, fully dressed and completely bare, covered in scars and wounds that move and appear and disappear instantaneously along with eyes on what should be a face and palms of hands. I close my eyes and the image scatters, though I feel hands over the metal - the pins - that frame my face.

 _My son, I give you your purpose._ All at once I know what I am - a Cenobite, a member of a sacred order, an explorer, a teacher. _My son, I give you your means._ I feel a weight at my hips and know that it is my tool belt, hanging from my navel, and I feel a tightness over my skin. My robes, holy and mine alone. _My son, I give you your name._

All at once I know who I am; the word fills me and completes me, a missing piece I did not know I was seeking. I bow my head once more, filled with reverence, filled with purpose.

"My Leviathan," I say, and my voice is new to the air and to me, "I am at your service."

The hands are gone, but the metal groan above me signifies my god's approval. I rise, and turn to face the world that I can now see. The Labyrinth - my god as well - gleams before me, stone and steel and sensation. I am new, but this has been a part of me forever. I will never covet any realm when I am here.

I step forward, towards its open and waiting walls, to begin in my duties.

* * *

 _It's almost 1 AM but I had to get this down before I lost it to my memory. Slowly but surely my headcanons are swallowing canon whole, but that was kind of the point anyway. Hope you enjoy!_


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